with an urgent desire to speak to him, to tell him something of importance… but what? She could feel it there, an undefined tension within herself, crying that she should make use of this providential encounter to warn Archimedes that…
She told herself not to be ridiculous. Warn Archimedes, against her tolerant, generous, much-loved brother? The worst Hieron was going to do was pay Archimedes no more than the salary agreed! Perhaps that was the message she really wanted to send: Don't sell yourself too cheap!
But with that thought she understood suddenly that she did not want Archimedes to sell himself at all. Not even to Hieron and Syracuse.
'Your master…' she said finally, not knowing how or even whether to begin. 'Is he a good master?'
Marcus had scrutinized this question, too, before he was aware of it, and discovered that it was difficult to answer. It was, in a way, the wrong question- he very rarely thought of Archimedes as his master at all; when he did, he resented him. But most of the time he thought of Archimedes simply as Archimedes: a phenomenon exasperating, astonishing, and unparalleled. 'I don't know,' he said, surprised into honesty. 'I think most of the time he forgets that he is my master. Does that make him a good master or a bad one?'
Delia made a noise of impatience. 'Do you like him?'
'Most of the time,' he admitted cautiously.
'Listen, then,' said Delia. 'Tell him I wish him well. And tell him… tell him that my brother is waiting to see how this demonstration of his turns out to decide what offer to make him. If it goes well he needs to be more careful than he does if it goes badly.'
Marcus stared at her. In the night shadows of the garden, he could make out nothing but the gleam of eyes in a pale face. Her brother. 'I don't understand!' he said in bewilderment. Then, urgently, 'Lady, if the king suspects my master of anything…'
'Nobody suspects him!' said Delia. She was Syracusan enough to understand that the first emotion inspired by a tyrant's interest was fear. 'Don't think that! Hieron wouldn't. It's just that Hieron thinks he may become invaluable, and there may be something in the contract that…I don't know, that may bind him in a way he might later regret. Just- ask him to be careful.' She stopped, biting her lip. Now that she had delivered it, the nature of her warning seemed to have altered. Night and the unexpected opportunity had tricked her into a betrayal, a breach of the loyalty she owed to her brother. Her face went hot and she felt all at once sick with shame. She jumped to her feet. 'No!' she said, in a fervent whisper. 'Don't say anything to him at all!' She turned and blundered off through the dark garden as though the slave might chase after her.
Marcus remained under the date palm, too stunned to move.
After many more songs, the party ended, and Marcus slunk back into the dining room to collect the flutes. He found Archimedes busy discussing modes with the barbitos player; the barbitos itself had been collected by the pretty boy, who amused himself by sneering at Marcus as they both stood waiting for their masters to finish talking. Marcus was intensely relieved when the discussion finally ended and they were able to leave the house.
Archimedes had largely forgotten his humiliation early in meal: his flute-playing had been a success. The barbitos player in particular had been very gracious, and said that they must play together again. Since the barbitos player was one of the richest and most important men in the city, well known for his patronage of the arts, this was gratifying. Not that it mattered, Archimedes told himself- he was a democrat, after all- but still, it was gratifying. He set off down the road at a good pace, swinging a corner of his cloak and humming.
Marcus hurried after him, clutching the flutes and looking grim. When they reached the main road, the slave ran up beside him and said in a low voice, 'Sir, something happened up there that you should know about.'
'Mmmm?' said Archimedes, without paying attention.
'I was listening to the music in the garden,' went on Marcus, 'and the king's sister came up to listen as well, and-'
'Delia?' asked Archimedes, stopping short and turning to Marcus. The moon had risen and shone full into the wide avenue, and it showed plainly his look of delight.
Delia? thought Marcus, in disbelief. 'I don't know her name,' he said in bewilderment. 'But she was the king's sister. She said to tell you-'
'Delia gave you a message for me?' cried Archimedes, even more delighted.
Marcus stared at him. He remembered now the girl's hesitant speech, and the way she had run off after trying to deny her message. In retrospect it seemed very like a maiden's first shy steps toward love. 'Perii!' he exclaimed, surprised into swearing in his own language. 'No wonder the king's been sending people to spy on you!'
'What?' said Archimedes, surprised in turn. 'On me? Don't be ridiculous! There's nothing for anyone to find out.'
'May the gods forbid that there should be anything between you and the king's sister!'
'I just met her twice in the king's house when I went there to see about the catapult,' said Archimedes stiffly. 'She plays the aulos too, and we talked about it. She's very good. What was the message? You said I should know about it.'
Marcus rubbed his hands through his hair. Maybe it was that innocent, he thought- but the fact remained that the king's sisterthe king's sister! — was sending Archimedes clandestine warnings about her brother's intentions. What did she see in him? He wasn't particularly good-looking, wasn't rich, and certainly possessed no polished seducer's charm. But in Alexandria he had won the favor of La[i..]s, and now there was this!
He could not even tell Arata about it- a thing he regretted, because he knew she was concerned about the king's spies and he had deep respect for her good sense. But he could not inform his master's mother, of all people, about his master's romantic follies!
'Well?' demanded Archimedes.
'She said to tell you that she wishes you well,' he said at last, 'and she warns you that if your demonstration goes well you must be careful, because her brother may try to get you into a contract that binds you to something you might later regret.'
Archimedes beamed. 'That's wonderful!' He began walking again, this time with something of a swagger.
'Wonderful? Didn't you hear what I said?' demanded Marcus furiously.
'Yes, of course. Delia wishes me well, and the king is going to offer me a contract if my demonstration goes well. I thank the gods!'
Marcus groaned.
'What's the matter now?'
Marcus regarded his bright-eyed assurance and groaned again. 'Nothing,' he said despairingly. 'Nothing at all.'
In the King's house, Hieron was sitting in the doorkeeper's lodge, feet up on the arm of the couch, sipping a cup of cold water and discussing the evening with Agathon, as was his custom after a dinner party. He listened to his guests, his doorkeeper listened to his guests' slaves, and afterward they compared notes; it was a technique that had often proved valuable. The doorkeeper had revealed that the slave of one of the officers was worried that his master had been drinking too much, while one of the councillors had been spending a great deal of money lately.
'And Archimedes' slave?' asked the king. 'Anything useful from him?'
Agathon snorted. 'I think somebody must have noticed that we were asking about his master. He arrived determined that he, at any rate, was not going to tell us anything. Once the music started he slunk off and hid in the garden so that he wouldn't have to talk to anyone. But he was claiming to be a Samnite, and he's quite plainly a Latin.'
'You're sure of that?'
'Oh, yes. His name's Marcus, and when he found out that Aristodemos' slave is a real Samnite, he was horrified.' Agathon gave a cackle of laughter. 'He had to pretend he'd forgotten how to speak Oscan, and he was such a poor liar it was pitiable.'
The king frowned. 'Has he had access to the workshops?'
'I'll check it,' said Agathon at once. 'But he's been in Phidias' household for thirteen years, and my impression is that he's loyal to his master.'
